


the way our horizons meet

by theystayalive



Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, But also very sad, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Nightmares, Shirbert, Stargazing, accidental close proximity, and Anne helps him, anne gets very shook
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 07:25:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15165584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theystayalive/pseuds/theystayalive
Summary: After the first nightmare she's had in months, Anne Shirley finds herself staring out at the Lake of Shining Waters in the middle of the night.After the silence in his house becomes deafening, Gilbert Blythe find himself next to her, telling her about the stories in the stars.





	the way our horizons meet

**Author's Note:**

> special thanks to Opehlia (@lydias--stiles) for helping beta this, you a real one. 
> 
> the new season is in 2 days and I had to direct my energy somewhere and this was the result.

Harshly shouted insults and the cracking of a belt still rang in Anne’s ears as she jolted awake in bed.

For a moment, terror gripped her heart and the only thing that moved was the heavy rise and fall of her chest as she struggled to catch her breath. Then, the disorienting grip of sleep that still lingered over her began clearing away and her eyes adjusted to the darkness to make out the familiar outlines of the room around her. Moonlight illuminated the white cherry tree just outside the window and she suddenly remembered where she was.

"Green Gables," she whispered to herself, "I am still at Green Gables".

Despite this comforting reassurance, her heart continued hammering uncomfortably in her chest as she began untangling herself from the sweaty sheets encasing her. She had to get out. The air in the room around her suddenly felt heavy and thick, like it was going to suffocate her. Taking a shaky breath she swung her legs out of the bed and pulled her boots out from beside her nightstand.

Anne crept down the stairs and through the kitchen to the front door. She knew that trying to fall back asleep was no longer plausible, and she was not about to spend another moment laying in the darkness trying to forget what she had just relived until morning. Perhaps fresh air and scenery would clear her mind.

The night was completely clear. The light of the moon gushed down onto Green Gables and illuminated everything in such a romantic way Anne could not help but give a little sigh. Things looked entirely different in moonlight. There was the sound of steady, rushing water from the stream that wound itself around the Cuthbert farm and out into the meadow beyond. Frogs sang in chorus with one another and filled the air with a constant sort of conversation that Anne found entirely comforting.

She had only meant to walk to the edge of the farm and back again. But, somewhere between the house and the fence line, she had become completely lost in imagining herself as the elegant Princess Cordelia, out for a midnight rendezvous with her long lost sister. In the midst of her daydream, she had found herself staring out over the Lake of Shining Waters from the center of the rickety wooden bridge that stretched over it.

Anne was yanked from her fantasy as she looked out on the exceptionally still, silver water. She certainly had not intended to go this far away from the house.

 _I can’t imagine Marilla would much approve of this_.

“Anne?” the voice came to her left of the bridge, behind a cluster of trees. She whipped around, the unexpected voice paralyzing her to the spot she stood.

She tried to control the shaking of her voice but failed miserably, “W-who’s there?”.

“Oh, sorry, sorry, it’s me,” the source of the voice shuffled out from the tree line. Anne felt herself draw in a small breath as the abnormally bright moon lit up his face.

“Gilbert,” she said with weak relief. As soon as she registered that it was not, in fact, a vengeful ghost, she quickly drew herself back up and squared her shoulders, placing her hands firmly on her hips, “you nearly gave me a heart attack”.

The boy gave a small laugh and made his way to stand next to her, “Sorry,” he rested his arms on the railing and turned to face the lake, “what are you doing out here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” the words came out sharper than she had meant them to. Secretly, Anne realized that she was trying to make herself seem far braver than she had felt that entire night. Of course she was not going to admit the reason she was out here at this hour. How could Anne ever live it down if she were to tell Gilbert Blythe that a silly nightmare had been what drove her out of her house? An even deeper part of her couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty. None of that was Gilbert’s fault.

But the boy didn’t seem to notice the cutting tone at all. His face remained neutral and composed as he continued surveying the landscape in front of them, “It’s a clear night, and I happen to like spring constellations”.

Anne watched him as his eyes traced invisible lines on the horizon in front of him. His smile seemed distant. It’s usual hint of mischief was now one of deep contemplation. It was as if he were in another time and place completely, somewhere that was certainly not Avonlea. Wherever it was he was thinking of, he certainly seemed to miss it. He looked...sad.

Slowly, Anne set her gaze towards the stars above. The precision that he studied the sky with frustrated her. It was as if he were reading lines from a story book and all she could see was a mass of speckled lights. Something about his eyes as they carefully connected invisible lines into an invisible pattern seemed almost familiar to Anne. Though she couldn’t say why.

“I never much cared for constellations,” she said stiffly, “I always felt the stars were too beautiful to be confined to poorly constructed pictures”.

Gilbert raised an eyebrow and turned his attention towards her, “Anne, I would think that you of all people would be absolutely enthralled with constellations”.

She narrowed her eyes at him, “And why is that?”

“Because they aren’t just pictures. They’re stories. Ancient cultures used to make legends to explain the pictures they saw in the sky. Legends with heroes and monsters and almost always some kind of tragic romance”.

That got Anne’s attention. She squinted harder into the night, willing herself to see what Gilbert so clearly could.

“Like, there,” he pointed just over the horizon, “those three stars in a line are called Orion’s belt. And there,” he moved his finger slightly to the left, “that cluster of stars are the Pleiades. The legend says that they were seven sisters that Orion fell in love with and spent his whole life chasing after”.

Anne scoffed, “Falling in love with all seven sisters? What a ridiculous notion”.

Gilbert laughed, “It is. Their father thought so too, so as punishment for always being such a nuisance, he put Orion up in the sky right next to them so he would be cursed to chase after them for all of his days and never succeed".

Anne couldn’t help but notice the fleeting smile that landed on Gilbert’s face, “Or there,” he moved his finger north, “is the princess Andromeda. She boasted that she was more beautiful than the nymph Nereids. So, Nereids went and complained to the sea god, Poseidon, who sent a sea monster to destroy Andromeda's kingdom,”

“A bit of an overreaction, I would say,” Anne muttered under her breath.

Gilbert furrowed his brow, trying recall the rest of the legend, “Her father went to an oracle or prophet or something to try and figure out how to stop the destruction of his kingdom. And the oracle said that the only way to stop it was to offer up his daughter as a sacrifice to the gods. He chained her to a rock where she would have stayed if the hero Perseus hadn’t rescued her”.

Anne was surprised to feel her stomach twist in anticipation and excitement as she pictured a strapping young man wielding a sword and battling a sea monster.

“He unchained her from the rock and ended up marrying her. I can't remember if it was Athena or Artemis that commemorated her in the sky next to Perseus and her mother”.

Anne was unsure if it was the stories or Gilbert’s contagious excitement, but slowly, the pictures began assembling themselves out of the clutter she had once seen, “Oh!” she gaped suddenly, “I know that one!” she pointed to a square formation with a tail, “I can’t recall its’ real name but a girl back at the orphanage used to tell me it was the big dipper!”

“Ursa major,” the quiet of his voice caused Anne to tear herself away from the sky and regard him questioningly. The excited spark in his eye had vanished and was now replaced by a glassy and far away haze. Anne knew that it would probably be best to leave the topic alone and move on to the next formation. But the sudden change in the boy’s demeanor was so startling that she found she could simply not contain her burning curiosity.

So she asked anyway, “Ursa Major?”

She waited as seconds, that felt more like minutes, ticked by and watched as Gilbert searched for words.

“Callisto...the Great Bear” he replied after what felt like an eternity, “she was a mortal woman that the god Zeus fell in love with,” a breeze rose up over the water and gently ruffled his back curls. His hair was longer than it had been when he had first left. Anne secretly thought it made him look older, “Zeus’ wife Hera was...not too happy about it, so she turned Callisto into a bear and cursed her to roam the earth alone for the rest of her days...away from her son, Arcas”.

 _Oh_ , Anne thought dumbly. She felt her throat knot as she started to realize why Gilbert had not particularly wanted to tell her about this legend.

“One day, while Callisto wandered the forest, she saw her son hunting,” his voice now seemed as far away as the stars themselves, “she was so excited about seeing Arcas again that she completely forgot she was a bear and ran towards him, so,” he drew in a breath, “he shot her with one of his arrows, and as she was dying at his feet, she turned back into his mother”.

Anne suddenly felt as if she were rather small. And as if she really should not have pushed him when he had so clearly been avoiding the topic of conversation. So she sat there in the dumb silence that now weighed down on the both of them, wishing she would one day learn to hold her tongue.

“Zeus heard Arcas crying and came down to see what had happened. He ended up placing them both in the stars, next to each other” he looked up with a heavy expression, “Ursa Major and Ursa Minor”.

Anne sucked in a small breath, “That’s…”

“Sad,” Gilbert finished, “Yeah, I know it’s-”

“No, beautiful”.

Gilbert looked up and stared at her blankly, “How-what do you mean?”

“It’s beautiful,” said Anne, now dreamily studying the constellation in the reflection of The Lake of Shining Waters. She furrowed her brow, “They were apart the whole time Callisto was cursed to roam the earth as a beast. Now they’re together forever for all to see and admire,” she smiled up at the Great Bear and thought how utterly glorious it would be to be with your mother forever among the stars.

A silence settled itself over the top of them. It was not uncomfortable or tense, but pensive and understanding. Both seemed to be wordlessly acknowledging and realizing the plight they shared with the other. Both were orphans. Orphans with people who cared about them in the world, but robbed of a stable, regular life with a father and a mother like every other child in their circle of friends.

To her surprise, Gilbert was the one to break the wordless silence, “I remember my mother,” he said softly, “but, not...everything. It’s almost like I have her in pieces. I can’t remember the sound of her voice, but I remember her laugh. I can’t clearly see her face, but I remember the way her eyes looked when she looked at me. I feel like I remember so little, and most of it I think I only pretend to because of what my father would tell me. It makes me feel I really shouldn’t miss her. But, I do".

Anne found herself trying to picture what Mrs. Blythe must have looked like. Was she intelligent? Did she like to read? Was she the one who had given Gilbert his kind eyes?

“I’m sure she was positively radiant, Gilbert,” she was not sure why she had said it. But, all she knew was that she wanted to do everything in her power to make Gilbert feel as if he was not as alone as he appeared on the bridge next to her. “I never knew my mother,” she continued, not daring to look at him, in fear that the heat she felt on her cheeks would not be completely hidden in the dark, “But I would like to imagine that she would have known all of the stories of the stars”.

“Oh, they aren’t just stories, they’re a map,” his tone had returned to the light and plucky one Anne was so used to, “The sailors I used to work with on the steamer would use them to navigate instead of compasses. They always said that compasses were worldly things...and just like any other worldly thing they could be broken or taken or misplaced. But no one could change the stars, even if they wanted to”.

He reached into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a smooth, golden object. Anne recognizes it as a compass. As he turned it over, Anne squinted, “It’s broken,” she said.

Gilbert chuckled and nodded, “Sebastian gave it to me as a joke when I finally learned how to use the stars to find my way home. Took me long enough ”.

The small laugh he gave, coupled with the way he had called Avonlea _home_ , brought an involuntary smile to Anne’s lips.

She couldn’t help what happened next, “Well, since you won’t be needing it,” she replied in a teasing voice, “I suppose you won’t mind if I take it and learn the skills of navigation myself”.

Anne snatched at the compass. For a moment as Gilbert pulled the compass out of her reach, his face was one of utter shock. Anne couldn’t say that she quite blamed him. She was just as confused as he was about the origin of this burst of playful energy. Usually it was he who was on the giving end.

But, then, his face split open into a huge grin and he held the compass up as if he were keeping it from a small child, “Not until you recite the stories I just told you”.

Anne let out a laugh, then suddenly dropped her face and looked at a point just over Gilbert’s shoulder, as if she were seeing something very concerning. Her trick worked. Gilbert faltered for a moment and turned his head to see what she was looking at. She used his moment of distraction as an opportunity and shot her hand out for the compass once more.

Several things happened over the span of just a few seconds. Anne lunged for the compass over his head and, with a shout of triumph, felt her hands close around it. Unfortunately, because of her overly excited attempt, she found herself losing her balance as her feet connected back on the bridge. She stumbled over the uneven boards beneath her and felt the back of her knees connect with the wobbly and thoroughly rotted railing behind her. The creaking and splintering noises that came after sent a jolt of fear through her body. Anne realized that she was falling. At the same time, she felt two strong, secure arms wrap themselves around her, pulling her back into steady ground.

Anne instinctively put her hand on the arm across her stomach and straightened herself. She then felt her heart crawl into her throat as she looked to see a pair of concerned brown eyes staring back at her.

She was inches away from Gilbert Blythe. His hands were around her back, her hands were on his arms, and he was staring down at her with that...look. And she was completely frozen. For what seemed like eons she was rendered motionless. Neither of them moved, neither of them spoke. They simply stared back at each other with wide-eyed surprise.

Anne was unsure how long exactly they stayed this way. She had felt...safe. She had felt like if they had just stayed there, wrapped up in Gilbert's arms that way she could pretend that nothing bad could ever happen to her again.

Then Gilbert smiled.

The confusion and surprise drained from his face and were replaced with a warmth that seemed to spread from the corner of his lips all the way up and into his eyes. Anne felt her stomach drop. This moment reminded her so clearly of the day she had said goodbye to him before he left her and Avonlea behind. He was looking at her as if he did not care at all that she saw past his smile to the feelings that lay beneath. He did not care that she knew he was looking at her. It did not bother him one bit that they were standing so close to each other. And, though Anne would never admit to it, she didn't exactly mind either. She quickly stepped backwards out of the embrace and back into the slight chill that encased the night.

“I-I have to get back,” she said in a hoarse voice, “Marilla will...be expecting me”.

Without waiting for a response, she spun on her heel and took off across the bridge, back into the woods from which she had come. The wind whipped loose strands of hair into her face and sent chills over her arms. She picked her way across the creek and skirted around Mr. Jone’s cow pasture before she realized she had accidentally taken the long route home. She kept running until she reached the end of the tree line that bordered, then opened up to, the Cuthbert's field. Here, she stopped and studied the pale and muted landscape in front of her.

All at once, the fatigue caught up with her and she leaned her back against the giant gnarled pine that she and Diana had attempted to attach a rope swing to (before getting caught) the spring before. Her heart was pounding in her chest, though Anne had a nagging suspicion that it had little to do with the journey she had just made.

A jolt of electricity shot through her hands once more as her mind flashed back to the events of the bridge. They had been talking, then laughing, then suddenly so close to each other that Anne could take note of the small white scar that rested just above his left eyebrow. She could feel his breath on her nose and smell the faint remnants of wood smoke on his shirt.

Then he had looked at her. He had looked at her with that familiar gaze that made her head scramble and her breath catch. In that moment of contemplation, Anne had suddenly realized why that look was so familiar. The way he had studied her face was the exact same way he had looked up at the stars when he had first appeared on the bridge next to her.

Admiringly. As if he were seeing something just below the surface that nobody else seemed to be able to. As if he was seeing a story that he desperately wanted to be apart of. That is how he looked at Anne.


End file.
